


Nurse Parker

by HaveMyWeedCookies



Series: Nurse Parker [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Peter's a nurse, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-29 22:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10863330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaveMyWeedCookies/pseuds/HaveMyWeedCookies
Summary: Deadpool frequented a particular balcony every night for a friendly visit and getting his wounds patched up by his favorite nurse.Or an alternative universe where Peter pursues a career in nursing to help people instead of embracing the responsibility of Spider-Man. But Deadpool is still Deadpool.





	1. Nurse Parker

A lot of people whom Peter had an unfortunate displeasure of meeting when learned about his occupation, often voiced their curiosity with a nosy level of judgment. An inquiry to Why Peter decided to be in the profession that he had been doing for almost five years: a professional nurse. Answers that Peter had given them varied depending on how much that day Peter was feeling generous on tolerating douches. For those who were Flash-like clones, which sadly were many, who outright mocked Peter’s career, Peter ignored them or asked them to stick their noses somewhere else that were their businesses. However, there were some people who just asked out of pure curiosity. In that case, Peter would just shrug, give them his polite smile and a short answer along these lines: “I love helping people”; “It pays the rent.”

Regardless of their true intentions, Peter couldn’t help but scold down at their ignorance. Even though it may not make it to the top lists of career choice considered by young men, males in nursing career weren’t uncommon and it was an honorable career. But because of the disappointingly successful effect of masculinity charades in this patriarchal state, many men has shunned the profession just because it emphasized on the traits of femininity. Peter had grown up in a house which the most caring couple, he’d ever known. His aunt May was also a nurse. And Uncle Ben ...Uncle Ben never taught him to live up to the image of the alpha male instead, he always urged Peter to be a caring and gentle person. 

Perhaps, that's why he would never understand the importance of mantivity. But Peter was totally fine without understanding it. At the mirror in the hospital's staff room, Peter stared at himself in a blue gown with pride. He had more important works to do.

 

 

Nevertheless, hospital works were chaotic and exhausting and sucked out Peter’s lifespan. Being a single, healthy and enthusiastic staff meaned that more works for him to be responsible to. Not to say some extra shifts that he volunteered himself to help his acquaintances when they had family urgencies. So, everyday Peter had been drowned in works and because of this Peter had no time for any forms of socialization. He didn’t need one. Like, right now, Peter was walking on the apartment's corridor to his designated room. All he ever wanted was to sleep to the next election. But as Peter slipped his key to the door’s lock, a shiver ran through his body, instinctively informing him that something was off in his apartment. Peter groaned and almost bang his head on the door out of frustration. He just came back from his last shift of the day and it was now three in the morning. Something that happened at this hour couldn’t be anything good.

‘Except, Gwen and MJ thought it a good idea to hold me a surprise birthday party.’ Peter snickered humorlessly at the idea. It was not out of possibilities as the girls would love to do that just to annoy Peter. But Peter’s Birthday wouldn’t be coming until the next three months, so nope – all he likely gonna get was a robber. Or worse.

You might ask, what could be worse than a robber? See, Peter had been a New Yorker his whole life. And he had seen some serious shits that could wreck the world in his city more times than any inhabitants of other large cities combined. So, with all carefulness he could summon from his sleep-deprived body, Peter silently opened the door and turned on the light. Everything in his living room looked as normal as he left them be in the morning. Dirty dishes in the sink, having been abandoned for a week long, takeout boxes on the brim of bursting out of a garbage bin. Dirty clothes on the scale of unwearableness scattering all over the floor, some that were salvageable draped on the couch. Nothing having been removed from their original spots or being miraculously cleansed. Yeah, no one broke into his room to clean them but Peter would still keep that fantasy. Because it was sweet. He checked his bathroom next, finding no traces of things that unsettled his nerve. So he moved to standing at the door to the last section of his tiny apartment. The bedroom. He took a deep breath, handle on his hand, from this spot he could now hear a faint mixture of sounds. Gurgling, heavy breathing. A similar sound of someone with a serious case of blood lost. They were dying.  
At this thought, Peter sprinted into the room, quickly swept his eye on the floor, bed, and wardrobe searching before he spot a shadow form of a man hung in a distorted position on his balcony railing. 

It was the infamous current resident of the underground world. Deadpool.

 

 

This was what Peter mentioned earlier of what could be worse than an ordinary robber. An enhanced individual whose vigilant lifestyles often more than not cut-crossed with the way of living of people like Peter. 

New York was somewhat a Leyline but instead of paranormal activity, it invited the cluster of extraordinaire people. These people just kept migrating to the Big Apple in the attempt to build up their fame. Some opted with justice vigilance, some with destruction. Peter’s point was that there were so many of them in the city that the Bugle never run out a new menace to slander. In other words, people couldn’t remember their deeds, or their super names if the new super wasn’t that remarkable enough. And Deadpool was the one that still occupied the big headline on the Bugle.

No one knew much about him except that he was a mercenary who recently made New York his new hide. By just a month the guy settled in the city, both communities of the two worlds, supers and folks alike were terrified of him. Rumors from all gossipy sources regarding his skills, his hideous figure and his madness spread like Australian wildfire. Now, the residents of New York heard and whispered about the new boogieman.

You may be surprised that these weren’t the things that had Peter concerned about the current situation he was in. In a minute, Peter scanned the body identified as the Merc with a month, he immediately ran to his bathroom where he stored his medkit and ran back to Deadpool. Every fiber of Peter’s body screamed only one thing. 

He must save the guy.

“Hey, are you still conscious?” Peter asked, following the medical protocols. Not wasting a time, as the man was still unresponsive, Peter acted. He gently removed Deadpool’s form from the rails, placing him on the floor and started searching for his pulse. It was very weakened. Peter cursed and began to perform CPR. He placed both of his hands on the center of Deadpool’s chest and pumped rapidly. His own exhausted state forgotten. Then, Peter unceremoniously lifted Deadpool’s mask to just above his nose in order to give him a blow. Switching between chest compression and blows, 10 minutes later, Peter’s hard work was rewarded with a satisfying sound of stable breathing. It was the most melodic sound to his ears.

However, when he was going to remove the mask completely to see whether the man had a concussion or not, Peter’s hand was suddenly caught in a deadly grip. His eyes widen, startled.

“Mask stays.” Deadpool hissed dangerously. But it also meaned he was in panic.

“Okay, okay. Got it. Mask stays.” Peter said regaining his composure fast. Having been in this career taught him well how to handle the unexpected so Peter added to the wounded vigilant, trying with a gentle tone to not scare him off. “I’m a nurse, Peter. Please let me see your wounds. I can help.”

He waited. But after giving him a harsh order, Deadpool was silent for no reasons. However, he also didn’t utter anything to voice his discontent so Peter took it as a sign to continue. He cut Deadpool’s top garment with his scissor from the kit, scanning for wounds. Seeing two from the chest and more on the torso, he started cleaning the first with alcohol before applied bandage on it. They didn’t attempt at converse, saving one time that Peter asked Deadpool to raise his upper body a little so Peter could continue his procedure which the mercenary easily complied. 

Peter was unaware of Deadpool’s silent observation on him until he spoke. Or actually leering at him. Inappropriately. 

“Usually I’d not allowed getting handsy until the third date. But you’re cute, so I’d let it pass instead of suing you for a molestation.”

“Did you just hit on me? Dude, I’m trying to save you here.” Peter said dryly, not even looking up from treating the second wound.

"And to save your time, Sweetie, that beautiful meatloaf you’re currently touching are my skin. So, you don’t have to busy you little butt save it. There is no salvation for them.” Deadpool chirped cheerfully but also with a tinge of sarcasm at the same time. He was really like a comic-booked character and Peter’s exhausted mind found him hilarious. Weird.

In reality, Peter kept rolling his eyes.

“I am a nurse, in case that you don’t know, I can differentiate between scars and wounds. And I don’t think your scars resemble meatloaf.”

Deadpool blinked or Peter just hallucinated out of exhaustion that he blinked through the white lens of his mask. Also, Peter just noticed that Deadpool’s mask was like a red panda.

“Then, what are they resemble?” He inquired, sound genuinely curious. 

“Dude, you are asking too much from me. A comparison requires the ability to abstract thought which also demands the work of a full-functioned brain which I currently don’t possess. All I can tell you now is that your scars are very artistic. Most fascinating out of all I’ve seen in years.”

Deadpool’s breath stuttered suddenly which made Peter had to look up to see whether he was going for another episode of the panic attack or not. 

“Are you alright?”

“Who are you? Where have you been all my life?” Deadpool mumbled, clearly to himself as he watched Peter in awe like Peter was a new kind of species he just discovered. 

“I’m Peter. The owner of the balcony you fell into. I’ve been living in New York for all my life but just 3 years in this apartment.” Peter answered him a matter-of-fact. At this hours, and his sleep-deprived state, Peter couldn’t even spell rhetoric let alone comprehending them.

“Hi, Petey. My name’s Wade Wilson.” Deadpool introduced himself. Why he was doing this, Peter had no clue, sleep-deprived and exhausted, remember. “I go by a jolly alias Deadpool. Have you heard of me? The regenerating degenerate which means I can’t die.” Deadpool – Wade informed him. 

Peter was dressing another wound, so he hummed to let Wade know that he was still there even he couldn’t grasp a thing rumbling from him.

“Which allllso means that no need to waste your medical supplies on my injuries. They’ll heal anyway.” Wade added helpfully as Peter seemed to not get his subtle message yet.

“Doubtful. Pretty sure that you almost died had I not performed my CPR.” 

“Die and come back, Baby Boy.”

“But you have to die first right?” Peter asked with a surprise coherent thought this time. Deadpool tipped his head in puzzle 

“Yeah?” he said, sound almost uncertain with the answer himself.

“Can or can’t resurrect, no one dies on my watch.” Peter said firmly, with an absolute tone of finality. 

Deadpool said nothing after that.

 

As true to his word, Wade was back to his fullest physical health by two hours. Despite having the firsthand witness of the infamous healing factor that everyone talking about, Peter still informed Wade to visit a doctor for a medical check. He also gave Wade a lecture for being reckless and Deadpool pursed his lips petulantly like a child. A finely built muscular child. By the time, the sunlight dawn on the horizon, Peter successfully kicked Wade out of his apartment. Wade seemed to be reluctant to move and voiced his displeasure loudly so Peter gave him his last portion of m&m to shut him up.

“Be careful, Wade.” Peter said one last time when the man prepared to jump off. Wade regarded him silently and gave him a thump up. Then, he turned his back and was out of Peter's sight.

After sending Wade off of his balcony, Peter collapsed unceremoniously on the floor. Unbeknown to him that he just invited a very big change in his comparatively peaceful 25 years old life.


	2. Peter Parker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, thanks for your kudos and comments! Also, please do not believe me anything on medical procedures or hierarchy. I know nothing.

Wade had infested Peter’s apartment and his life for the next five months onward. A week after the first incident, Peter discovered him again, this time sitting on the rails, and clutching his bleeding bicep. Peter dressed the wound anyway because he was nothing but a man dedicated to his profession. However, it also didn’t stop him from reprimanding the merc when the man told him he just allowed some ninja mutants to slash his fleshy bit because their swords seduced him to stab himself on their shiny sharp edge. 

Then there was another. 

And another, until it became their somewhat routine that Peter as grumble as he may, must drag his tired ass to patch Wade up, regardless of ungodly hours Wade chose for a nightly visit. Their activities during those earlier days, though, contained with just wound-dressings, Peter’s instruction on how Wade supposed to take care of himself. Just a necessary talking but no carefree conversing.

Despite Deadpool’s reputation for running his mouth unstoppably, Wade surprisingly kept it to himself most of the time. He might quip that and throw sarcasm there, several hit-on puns but nothing chatty. 

Here is Peter’s valuable lesson: patients came in different shades and sizes, including their expectations of medical service whether just keeping it impersonal or friendlier procedures. To give more or less than they wanted would certainly get him complaints or worse sued. The tough life of a nurse. Nevertheless, annoying as it sounded, Peter tried his best to ease off his patient’s discomfort because he himself once used to be in their shoes before. He understood how much illness and pain could weaken people’s mental strength. 

Hence, if Wade wanted to keep it professional, Peter’d not prod or pry. However, when he almost finished the bullet wound on Wade’s chest, Peter noticed Wade’s demeanor which told otherwise. Wade was staring at Peter, looking like he wanted to let out something on his mind but hesitated to. And Peter could tell it through Wade’s mask. He had no clue how but did it anyway. Peter dubbed it as “nurse intuition.” Following his gut instinct, Peter asked Wade an ice-breaking question like why Wade always bothered him instead of getting a better treatment from the hospital.

Wade took a chance instantly by responding that Peter must take responsibility because he stole his first kiss.

“Wade, that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation didn’t count anything and I did it to save your life.” Peter explained, exasperated. 

Wade gasped and began to wail dramatically. “But I saved my first kiss for the wedding day. We’re going to swear the oath until deaths do us part! Now life has killed the dream, I dreamed.” 

“Duh, it’s hard to sympathize your agony when I’ve lost my first to Hersey's kisses. It was sweet and chocolate-y.” Peter snickered, patting Wade’s shoulder with mocking condolences. Wade’s body stiffen but quickly relaxed.

“Cruel nurse.” Wade sniffed.

“I appear to have the last package in my fridge. Want one?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

 

After the ice was broken, their regular meeting at Peter’s balcony became much more eventful. And kinda fun. There was one night that Wade didn’t injure himself so bad and they initiated a different activity that Peter’s patch-up skill wasn't required. 

On that night, Deadpool showed up as usual but with a small cut from a potato-peeler on Peter’s balcony.

“You do know ban-aid exist, right?” Peter said but handed him one anyway. As he prepared to shoo Wade off, Deadpool waved his another arm that hooked a plastic bag containing Mexican takeouts. Smugly face evident through the mask. The bastard somehow knew Peter never turned down free food and abused the knowledge.

It was Wade’s idea that they dined on the rooftop of Peter’s building.

Annoyed that he got woke up in the middle of the night and had to crawl up the fire escape so they could eat greasy midnight meal, Peter followed Wade up anyway. However, all of his annoyance and sleepiness disappeared when they reached the rooftop. 

New York looked… different from a higher point of view, Peter suddenly realized. 

Standing near the edge, he stared at the scenery before him in amazement. Dark, light and many tall buildings. The sky was dark without stars, shy away from the sharp lighting displays of the restless city. The moon also absent, too cloudy. But the wind was not too strong. They were nice, caressing Peter’s pajama form gently. Peter closed his eye contented in letting his sense relaxed to the soothing sound and touch. It was not romantic per se but it made Peter felt almost free. From responsibilities that tied him tightly to the ground. And be himself.

Wade appeared at Peter’s side silently, offering Peter a smile.

“I bet it’d feel pretty amazing swinging between that tall buildings too. No one lay claim on that space yet but my mutation gives me no wings. Disappointing.”  
Peter laughed. A genuine laugh he ever had in years.

They unofficially added rooftop dinner to their schedule since then.

 

But they couldn’t have dinners at rooftop every night, realistic speaking. Because it rained in New York. So, Peter invited Wade to eat in the kitchen like what civilized people did. Wade was flabbergasted.

“You want me, as in me, in your apartment?” He asked.

It was Peter’s turn to be surprised that he never invited Wade into his apartment before, with the exception of balcony. How rude had he become? Aunt May would be disappointed. 

“Well, the balcony is a part of my apartment. I don’t see the difference why you can’t be inside too.” Peter shrugged. He opened the door to his bedroom, raising his brows as he waited for Wade to finally get in.

Wade still acted all awkward all the way to the kitchen. Then his boot stepped on an empty pizza box that Peter left on the floor. Peter cringed. Then he remembered why he never invited people to his house. Because it was dirty –and the floor was basically the landmine of rubbish.

“I forgot to warn you. My house is a bit messy.” Peter told the mercenary weakly, red slowly creeping up to his neck and cheeks in embarrassment. 

“‘A bit messy’, huh?” Wade parroted, a tone tinged with mirthful judgment.

Peter huffed defensively, “I am a nurse. I have no time for mundane chores.”

Then, Wade placed his large hand on his head and ruffled.

“Wade!”

“Don’t get your feather too ruffled, Baby Boy.”

A day later, someone broke into Peter’s house and spirited away his collection of garbage. His dishes got clean and his clothes even ironed. Peter kept leaving candies in the fridge for his hardworking culprit. 

 

Time actually flew. Before he even realized, his Birthday was due to tomorrow. Peter stopped paying attention to his Birthday for a long time ago. Aunt May always gave him a call to wish him well and happy. Sometimes, when the girls were nearby and free, they would take him off for a dinner so they could catch up with each other lives. But this year, with Gwen tearing down her hair on her Ph.D. thesis on biochemistry at Empire State University and MJ on tour with other Broadway casts, Peter supposed he would do what he had been doing for years on his Birthday: working.

Wade was shocked he almost fell off the rails when Peter offhand told him. 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me earlier?! How I suppose to find you a perfect present in this short amount of time.”

Peter shrugged. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to get me anything. It’s nothing special.”

“Like hell, it’s not.” Wade growled, seemingly caught up in his internal monolog then he brightened up. “Worry not, Baby Boy! I’d come up with something – prepare to get a surprise!”

 

Peter never thought that Wade would deliver his present in the middle of the day. At Peter’s workplace. Peter was working at medical report department, organizing medical reports for the doctors of afternoon sessions when a frighten interns rushed to him. “Mr. Parker, there is a man in a costume looking for you.” She stuttered out, legs quivering that Peter had her sit down immediately before the poor girl fainted. Then, he took off.

Peter ran, meanwhile cursing Wade. Oh, Peter couldn’t wait to skin him alive.

Then he spotted him. Rephrased, it would be hard to not spot him. The man was in his usual Deadpool suit but this time he was wearing a ‘nurse costume’ on them too. It was pink and highly sexualized female uniform of nurses that could be found in a Halloween party. Or porn. That small pieces of the garment for a normal-sized female stretched out on Deadpool’s built form and looked painfully uncomfortable to everyone’s eyes but the man himself. Wade looked up from the family of patients he currently having uncomfortable chat with, his eyes shone when he spot Peter running to him.

“Baby—“Peter tackled Wade, not letting him finished, and maneuvered the oversized child to nearest room and shut the door.

Peter heaved out a sigh of misery when he heard a catcall from Deadpool who stood behind him.

“Damnit, Baby Boy. That sheer power of you.” Deadpool openly leered at Peter’s behind, “That sweet ass of you in the thin blue gown too. And I’m the one wearing ‘sexy nurse’ suit.”

“What the hell, Wade?” Peter glared at him, slowing rubbing his temple to ease off his upcoming migraine.

“Your surprise, Birthday Boy.” Wade curtsied, then he adopting that salty tone and purred “You seems tense. Lucky, I have a medicine for this.” Peter’s spine shivered. 

“Ew, no.”

Wade pouted. “Peteyy. You need to be more cooperative.”

“Wade.” Peter warned.

“Parker, who the hell is that clown you’re talking too?” A third annoyed voice interrupted their talk. Peter was startled. Crap. Of all room, he had to push Wade in the nurse on-call room where, blessed Peter’s luck, Jemma J. Jameson, the terrifying head nurse aka Peter’s superior, was currently having her coffee break.

Here is the fact about Jemma J. Jameson. The woman was of the same age of his aunt. Despite having no biological relationships with the Bugle’s hardheaded editor, Jemma shared many similarities with him, last name, appearance, and personality. This mustache lady was stubborn, conservative and authoritative, with a sharp tongue that made interns and young nurses cry three times per day. Aunt May always called her ‘the old hag’ until she retired. Needless to say, Peter was scared of her.

“Well, Parker? Do we have all day?”

Peter gulped.

“He is… he is my friend. Wade.” Peter stammered nervously. Wade opened his mouth trying to say something but Peter placed both of his hands on his mouth. Peter’d not permit Wade screw up his career. No.

“Bloody hell, Parker! Spill the bean why your friend’s fucking here in the staff room and where is his permit.” The female Jameson was losing her non-existent patience.

“He is a… a cosplayer! A family hired him to play a superhero visit to their child.” Peter lied, and cringed at how weak and unconvincing it sounded. His boss raised her brows, looked unimpressed.

“Your friend is an idiot, Parker. That suit is of Deadpool, a menace. Have you even read a newspaper, kid thesedays.” Jemma said, of course, she was the only one who subscribed the Bugle.

Peter bristled.

“My friend is not a fool. He has a different perspective of how Deadpool should be interpreted. A fool is a person who blindly believes anything ill-cooked by the tabloid with no evidence to support their claims.” Peter ranted.

Jemma was gasping at him with wide eyes. Hand with a coffee cup hung mid-air. Even Wade stopped wriggling. 

Then, Peter’s self-preservation kicked in.

“Oh! Ma’am, it looks like we have to go now. Bye! See you around!” Peter wrapped up and dragged Wade out of the room before his boss finally regained her conscious. Peter was so screwed.

 

“You defended my honor.” Wade said, astounded when they were out on the hospital’s lawn.

“With my own future.” Peter mumbled then he started to panic. “Oh gosh, you made me talk back to my boss! Now she is so going to grill my ass for disobedience.” Peter blamed Wade because he was the only one around to blame.

“Eh, in my defense, you did it yourself. I was busying sniffing your hands.” Peter groaned.

“How about let Nurse Wade handled your stiffness?” Wade began his seduction. Again.

“No, Wade.” Peter said firmly.

“No, what?”

“No to sexual advances in general. Big no to the roleplay that involves healthcare professions. I’m working with THEM. Nothing could be more turn off than imagining my boss DO that.” 

Both of them shuddered in unison.

Wade showed up at night with a pizza and he did the imitation of Jemma J. Jameson all the night including that inappropriate sexual roleplaying her with the Bugle’s Jameson. Peter tried to be scandalized but ended up having an episode of hysterical laughter.

 

 

Those days were like a bright blue sky that was a deceit of the building storms which were soon going to strike the oblivious sailors.

Peter tended to look over crucial facts even they were staring at his face. Like the fact that Wade was a super vigilant and Peter was just a simple man. The big gap between their lifestyles was soon going to tear whatever forming between then apart.

He paid this thought no attention. Having Wade around somehow made Peter feel alive and he started getting compliments from staffs and patients for just looking happy. His desperation made him neglected many things he shouldn’t. Like the fact that Wade had an aggressive suicidal tendency. Peter was not blinded to not see that his wounds which Peter had been treating for months, the majority had been caused by self-harm. The rest he got from allowing people to hurt him intentionally. To feel the pain. And Peter tried not to dwell on this fact. He didn’t even have the courage to tell Wade before. Too selfish. Too afraid that it’d scare off Wade from him.

Peter was shaking at this nauseous thought. He had been shaking for three hours now, kneeled on his floor as he stared at Wade’s lifeless body.

 

 

Wade was seriously injured when he dropped unceremoniously on Peter's floor. Peter was horrified when he saw him. Wade missed both of his right arm and leg. A big gap on his bowel and bullet holes decorating throughout his body. Blood bleeding from him like a waterfall. 

“I’m going to call an ambulance!” Peter told him because no way Peter and his silly little kit could do anything on that.

“No. No hospital.” Wade said through the blood. “It’ll be alright.” 

He then lost conscious.

Peter didn’t call an ambulance because Wade asked him not too. Peter searched for a long piece of clothes and tied it over Wade bleeding arm and leg to fruitlessly stop the blood. He did CPR. He did and did but he couldn’t feel Wade’s pulse or his breath. Peter started crying silently as he gave Wade the last blow on his mouth. A hand dropped at his side as he began to hit the floor furiously. And wept.

Wade came back after six hours. 

 

Wade showed up the next night like nothing happened. Rummaging through Peter’s pantry as he claimed to make Peter his famous pancake. This time, Peter didn’t let it go.

“Wade, we need to talk.” Peter said calmly, standing in front of Wade. Wade didn’t turn back to talk to him. His demeanor instantly tensed, but still kept going with cheery oblivious attitude.

“About what?” He singsonged.

“Your death, yesterday.” Peter continued. Wade hummed.

“Wade, you scared me yesterday.” Wade's hands stopped mid-air getting a pan out but soon regained its motion.

“Huh, haven’t you seen death before? Thought you’re a nurse and not a chicken.” Wade’s voice dropped to his real one. A rarely used one that was gravel and laced with violence. And pain.

And Peter suddenly felt the anger subsided in himself, rose.

“Yes! But not my friend’s death! I couldn’t not feel something seeing people whom I care about died in front of me.” Wade threw the pan into the sink. It crashed loudly. Peter refused to flinch. 

“Then, what is your suggestion? I die all the time.” Wade sneered, turned to confront him. His air oozed with agitation. Wade was scared he knew how this was going and he hated it.

“I’ve noticed things, Wade. At first, I didn’t say anything that would invade your personal boundary –“

“You should keep it that way.”

“I can’t.” Peter sighed. He gave Wade a tired smile. “I’ll patch you anytime you need me to. But since what I’m not sure myself too, you’ve become my friend. I care about you. Too much that I can no longer be impersonal and neglect the fact that you need help. I don’t want you in pain.” 

Wade was staring at Peter and Peter looked at him with hopeful eyes. And then,

“It’s none of your business, Nurse.” He spat venomously. Peter flinched at his word. He should know. He’d learned about this for years. This was the works of the mental defensive system. Wade was hurt, feared and he didn’t mean to say what he said. But Peter also couldn’t help that it broke his heart or how it stimulated his lacrimal gland.

Peter stood silently letting his tear down, unaware of Wade who appeared unexpectedly before him. His hand hovering awkwardly between their bodies like he wanted to touch him but he changed his mind. Wade marched out of Peter’s kitchen. With one last glance, he said, “It’s been a good killing of time, but it’s over.”

It took Peter minutes to be able to move his shocked body.

“Wait, Wade!” Peter snapped out of his stupor, but he was too late. Wade already disappeared.

 

He blamed himself for his slow reaction that he couldn’t talk to Wade properly. With Wade’s tendency and his current stage, Peter found it hard to sleep, knowing that somewhere out there Wade’d be taking off his life. 

He didn’t sleep the next night too.

The disappearance of Wade also invited the reemergence of Peter’s old nightmare that had haunted him for a decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is getting longer than I anticipated but I'll try to wrap up, probably it'd be 3-4 chapters. Please bear with me.


	3. Peter Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter went outside to put a sign on the balcony railing. It read:
> 
> ‘Will date only an uninjured man. Peter.’

He was fifteen when he first got the ‘power’; the power that could help he become someone different who could be much more special than puny Peter Parker.  
The mere thought had him thrilled in anticipation. However, the scientist in him warned him to not hastily utilize that power before a thorough examination. Peter discovered via the test that he had the amazing abilities that were similar to that of a spider. Super strength, agility which surpassed all Olympic gymnasts, and that super ‘spider’ sense. They were awesome. Nevertheless, what clearly didn’t come with the package was the spider web. And the nerd in Peter pouted in disappointment because the web was the signature of any arachnid species. He wanted it to perfect the spider-themed hero he aspired to be.

So, Peter manufactured one. He used his gained ultra-human abilities to sneak out at night when his aunt and uncle asleep, and boy the climbing wall ability made it so easy for him to break into the Empire State University and take advantage of their lab. Within a short period of one month, Peter completed the synthetic web along with his prototype of the ‘webshooter’. He knew already it was a great innovation, perhaps second only to the arc reactor. If he sold it to any technology companies, Oscorp, Stark, Their family wouldn’t be worried about earnings again. Or he could use this for the good cause. Justice. It was a good way of building his reputation too. It was him who had all the power to decide the future. Arrogantly, the teen Peter put his invention back in his backpack and slipped out of the building. 

Had he ever realized, the price of his ambition.

 

That night, Uncle Ben was waiting for him outside the university when he jumped down from the wall. It seemed that Peter was never good at hiding a secret from his family. Uncle Ben suspected and decided to follow him to the Empire State U where he’d seen his nephew disappeared inside.

He caught Peter and demanded him the truth on the spot. Out of shame and alarm, Peter fought back to his uncle’s reprimand. The walk back from the university had been filled with anger, disappointment, and silence until they reached that convenient store where the robber was committing his crime. They heard the owner called for help and it was Uncle Ben who tried to stop the robber.

A gun shot rang the area shortly after that.

In his dream of that distant past, the recollection of unimportant details reduced to just a blurry, fragmented scenario. It felt like he was witnessing it through a cracked window on a raining night, just his uncle, himself, his swiveling emotions that stood clear and vibrant. Peter knew from the start how this movie was going to end when he began to see the scene of the teen shaking in fear while kneeling down to watch his own uncle lying on the cold pavement. Like a guest invited to the movie night who had no authority over a remote control, all he could do was just sit and suffer, watching the boy provided the dying man he loved most in the world nothing but a nonsensical apology that was so ridiculously useless.

Abruptly, the scene cut to the inside of the ambulance. Of machine noise that monitored his uncle’s status. Then, finally, it finished at the hospital where Uncle Ben on a patient cart was sent to the ER. Peter found his younger self, standing around the bench outside the operation room. The distressed Aunt May in uniform appeared in front of him. Slowly, she took his hands in hers and gave him a gentle squeeze. The teen Peter's hands were shaking uncontrollably. And his face covered in tear.

 

Peter woke up with a horrible feeling. Again. He lifelessly maneuvered himself from his unruly bed. Garbage started piling in his house. Again. It had been a week since Wade’s departure from Peter’s life. 

Peter got dressed and went to work, the routine which he’d been doing since before he rescued the masked mercenary from his balcony railing. His life resumed to a normal rhythm in which no one interrupted him at night for a medical treatment or for a chat over takeout food. And it was horrible. Peter had struggled since then to regain his sense of pre-Wade normality. And he failed each day. He still waited for Wade outside at the balcony, bundled in his blanket until he fell asleep. Mysteriously, his foots seemed to know a way back to bed as he continued to wake up on them every morning. Peter started buying the Daily Bugle just for any traces of Wade’s whereabouts, or his wellbeing but the man seemed to be drop out of the world’s surface.

The problem was that Peter’s struggle had increasingly worried his colleagues. Lacking was his normal spirit that he never knew having one, but his colleagues insisted of its disappearance. He was still arguably effective but it was far from his best performance. Everything he had done come out halfhearted and any mistakes, regardless how small they were, could easily send him back to the mental pitch of failure where it was gleefully pleased to remind him of the latest person he had failed to help. The first was Uncle Ben, and the recent one was Wade.

“Parker, you look like shit.” 

Peter snapped himself out of his own painful thought. It seemed he had been standing like a statue staring at the patient ward’s wall for a while now until the chief nurse, Jemma, mentioned his name. Peter started to really look at their surrounding – there were other nurses beside his boss around who were clearly listening to their dialogue. 

“Sorry, ma’am. I… I’ll go washing my face and be back.” Peter apologized.

The head nurse snorted.

“No. You go home. And don’t come back until you stop looking like a walking corpse.” She scolded. 

Now, it was time for Peter to actually panic. No, he couldn’t go home. He wanted to be here where he could help other people out and be useful for once in his life.

“No! Ma’am, I can—“

“You can nothing, Parker! This is order!” She barked which had an immediate effect on Peter who shut his mouth obediently. 

“But my shifts… it’s going to be chaotic to find someone to fill in.” Peter tried to reason. 

“We volunteer.” 

Another female voice said from behind Peter. A small group of 3-4 nurses, both male and female appeared. They are those who Peter used to fill in their shifts before. His fellows of the same profession gave him their supportive smile.

“Go rest, Peter. We’ll take care your shifts until you’re ready.” One of the male colleagues reassured. 

“Works will not go away in just a few day, dude. This is the hospital!” Another tried to light up the mood. 

They all laughed but the terrifying head nurse who just watched with indifference.

“Good. Parker, be back in 3 days or you’re fired.” 

And with the last order, she walked away. Peter turned to give his gratitude to his friends. To be frank, he was feeling deeply guilty that his personal problem compromised his performance badly that they had to intervene. With a weak smile he could offer, he promised them to be back very soon and in his old top form of Nurse Parker. He'd fix this.

 

Peter wasted two days away with sappy movies and a large box of chocolate and he was still not feeling better. 

Currently, Peter was lying down in front of the TV, rolled in his most comfortable blanket like a big burrito as he watched a Titanic rerun, trying his best to be emotionally engaged with the protagonists’ romance. The key was Peter was trying here. He assumed that a very emotional drama would help release his stress but it didn’t. All he got so far was a pair of redden eyes and disgusting snot. There was a few moment after crying that Peter felt it would work but depression stubbornly returned, and he had to start over again with another movie. 

Peter was busy stuffing his mouth full of chocolate and some chips when his phone rang. It was Aunt May. Therefore, Peter had no choice but to receive the call.

“Hello, Aunt May. How do you do?” Peter greeted with a wavering voice. It was resulted from the movie’s climax and not at all his own vulnerability. 

“Not bad. How about you, Peter?” His Aunt asked. However, as Peter was preparing to conjure a lie, she warned him with a stern voice.

“Be truthful to your aunt, Peter. I’ll always know something is off with you.”

“How did you know that I’m not alright?” Peter asked. Aunt May hummed knowingly.

“I have my own way but that’s not the point.” Yeah, her own way was that someone kept her updating about Peter’s life. Of course, that was why she called him in the first place. Two years since her retirement, his aunt still had her own spy monitoring Peter and he didn’t have a clue who was the person.

“Peter, you’re not alone in this. You can talk to me everything.” Aunt May said, her voice laced with kind and understanding. And there was no way out in this but to tell her what bothered his mind.

 

When he started talking, he seemed not be able to stop himself. With the exception of the fact that Wade was Deadpool, Peter told Aunt May everything about him. Their meeting, their last confrontation and the effect on Peter when Wade was gone. Also, Peter may cry along the way but that was a small detail.

“I know it was my fault. I scared him away. Had I not freaked out on him, he’d not freak out and disappear. And we could be having the talk and I can still be there for him. He needs help, Aunt May. And I want to help him – because I like him.” Peter confessed.

Aunt May hummed thoughtfully on the line. 

“Well, I think you’re right, Peter. You did scare that poor man.” Aunt May finally spoke. Her voice was void of accusation. However, Peter couldn’t help but wince at how frank she was when confirming him about his mistake. 

“From what I’ve gathered about this Wade from your story. The man’s heart is really fragile. He depends on you to be the stronger one in the relationship. When you’re weak, so is he.” 

“I failed him. I failed everyone. I cannot be a good friend to him and not a good nurse too.” Peter sniffed, hiding under the blanket in hope that both of the pain and himself would disappear from the world.

“I don’t think so.” Aunt May interrupted gently. “You can’t always play the dependable one for him, Peter. Sometimes, it is important to let him know that your heart bleeds too so he’ll careful next time when he handles it in his hands.”

Peter emerged from the cocoon. 

“You said next time?” 

He could practically hear Aunt May’s smile.

“If he lives up to anything that you described so highly about him, he’ll learn the lesson. Then, he’ll come around.” She said sagely. 

“Thank you, Aunt May.” Peter whispered softly, grateful. 

“Oh, and Peter, did you remember that day you came to me and told me about your resolution?” Aunt May asked. Peter blinked at a sudden change of topic.

But of course, Peter remembered. 

It happened after Uncle Ben’s funeral had passed for three months. Two months after the court. The police caught the culprit who shot his uncle. Aunt May and himself were there when the judge sentenced him to life in prison for the horrible crime he committed which took away the life of the man beloved to them. At that moment, Peter felt that justice was such a hollow consolation compared to the warmth of his uncle’s body when he hugged Peter and Aunt May or the brightness of his smile. Peter realized that he didn’t want it. He didn’t even desire to avenge the man who killed Uncle Ben. All he ever wanted was life. Peter wanted to save what was drained off from his uncle. So, he made up his mind.

After high school, Peter went to the nursing school and he became a nurse. Whenever people blatantly commented about how he could do better, Peter just shrugged it off. 

And the power that fate bestowed upon him? Peter utilized his super strength just when he needed to handle a stubborn patient or usher an unruly guest out of the room. His spider-sense was to help him avoid getting mugged when he took a shortcut alley at night. And his sticking-wall ability? – It was useful only when Peter had to change a lightbulb without a stepladder.

Nevertheless, before Peter made the decision of no turning back, he came to Aunt May for her opinion.

“I remember.” Peter finally spoke. “I was afraid of making a mistake. That’s I’d be a burden to everyone.”

“Could you recall what I said to you when you told me?”

Peter finally smiled. “You said ‘Peter, you’ll make a great nurse.’”

 

Talking was indeed a miracle medicine. Peter felt instantly better and he was able to keep the feeling with him even after he ended the call with Aunt May. His phone beeped several times before he went to bed. Not surprisingly, Aunt May told the girls and now they flooded Peter’s message box. Peter answered them so they would let him sleep. (“Yes, I’m feeling better now.” “No, I’d not approve any of you threatening Wade with body harms that include gonadectomy as well.”) The girls promised to pay him a visit as soon as they could and Peter was immensely grateful. He had a good life and it had blessed him with two beautiful women and their friendship grew stronger each passing year.

 

Peter was still worried about Wade but he was no longer overwhelmed with the worriment. Owing a great time to Aunt May’s wisdom, he finally saw that there was still hope for their relationship. Because there was still hope for anyone who could hope. Out of the blue, an idea came to his mind.

Peter went outside to put a sign on the balcony railing. It read:

‘Will date only an uninjured man. Peter.’ 

He smiled to himself. Now, that was all Peter could do for his part. He’d leave the rest up to Wade. 

 

The next day that Peter was back to work, the assembly of villain and terrorist groups went by the name ‘The True Avengers’ planned to sabotage the entire city of New York. Notwithstanding, having the most pathetic name ever (To mock the New York’s best team of heroes according to their evil spokesman), they were terribly successful in assembling hundreds of armed troops. Leading by super-enhanced leaders, these squads were dispersed throughout the city. Instead of attack the political landmarks, they aimed to siege the locations where people’s spirit would be utmost vulnerable. Places like mass transit, shopping centers, and schools. 

Hospitals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and kudos! 
> 
> This chapter was originally longer but I think it'd read better this way so I just cut it here. The next part will be about 'New York Shutdown'. Basically, we just need a device plot for Wade to have his big heroic comeback to Peter.


	4. New York Shutdown

As the charge nurse whose responsibility was to oversee the treatment team, Peter was at the emergency department throughout the morning of the first day he was back to work. The clock announced 12.45. Peter was having his coffee in the staff room, waiting for an afternoon round to start at 1 PM, when a disheveled colleague appeared. He slammed the door, accidentally though, so hard that it startled Peter and woke other nurses from their nap time.

“Open the TV!” He panted. They usually didn’t open the TV in the on-call room because nurses were here just for a quick rest, coffee or checking their phones, and the noise from whatever program playing on the TV tended to interrupt their activities.

Nevertheless, they opened it in time to watch a clip cut from the speech of a new villain team currently broadcasting on the YouTube. The evil spokesman on the screen who referred to his assembled party as ‘The True Avengers’ was rumbling how his superior assembly was going to deliver despair and destruction no one could ever imagine to New York. He praised, eyes gleamed with malice, that their evil scheme went by the code ‘New York Shutdown’ would make the city remember them forever.

They were so typical and disgusting. The Cliché kind of villains that made Peter wanted to vomit.

 

Peter and the others made a beeline for the office of the head of nursing as soon as the news ended. There was a group of nurses from different departments gathering around it already. Jemma was waiting for her subordinates who were not in charge to present. When she deemed everyone here, the matron began to give them a briefing on the situation they were going to face.

“As many of you already saw the news, there is a group of idiots out there trying to shut down New York.” She began, voice serious. “The Dean of the hospital just finished the discussion with the chief of police. These are what we already have about them: the terrorist group is disorganized and evidently employing strategies of post 9/11 terrorism which make them both unpredictable and dangerous. Also, it’s highly possible that it could be some villain mastermind behind their mobilization. However, that’s the police’s job to further their investigation, not ours. What we should keep in mind, which is the same with the police and the Dean asked us to, is to be prepared for the worst scenario. Follows your protocols and hope for the best that no one gets injured.” 

The head of nursing staff finished with a grimace. At her speech ending, every nurse went back to their positions with trepidation. They knew from the experience that today was going to be one of the most difficult days in their career.

 

Five years of working at Midtown Hospital, Peter had seen the ugliest aspect of battles between heroes and villains many times he lost count. Injuries of all kind on adults and children. The antiseptic smell of the hospital and the combination of scent from blood and bodily fluid. He could tolerate this, actually, – he did that on daily basis anyway. However, there was always people crying, screaming, sobbing and prayers in every corner of the hospital. It was indeed the materialized form of the concept ‘agony’. That was what made him angry because these people weren't supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to be the one who suffered from the pitiful fights that began when some entitled bastards wanted to be or have something that didn’t belong to them. 

Needless to say that, each attack always exhausted every medical staff. By the end of the day, doctors and nurses alike had to lie down and have saline solution injected into their veins. Peter never was in that situation. He might be luckier than his colleagues because of his super endurance. But sadly, he couldn’t get away with the stress from sensory overload caused by the hyperstimulation of the distressing environment and his cursed enhanced sense. 

Back to the present, Peter already ordered his team to call all of their doctors and physicians who originally didn’t have a shift today to come to the hospital. He hoped that this was just for a preparation and the terrorists would be neutralized before they could start causing havoc.

Unfortunately, his dread had been confirmed when the city of New York just announced for its residents to shelter-in-place, just 30 minutes after the broadcast of the True Avengers’ speech. 

 

Pound for pound, they were nothing on par with the supervillains because this assembly basically was a result from the aggregation of nameless and low-grade villains. However, by combining their force together and their pure lust for destruction, they made the most dangerous enemy of New York citizens. Their loose organization gave them a significant advantage. With each fraction remained the liberty to plan their attacks individually, this invited chaos. And sadly, their chaotic strategy worked as they managed to siege some schools and hospitals of different boroughs and successfully shutting down the metro. The social network was horribly abused to support their nefarious agenda. Facebook, Twitter, YouTube became the platform for announcing the next locations to attack, inviting anarchist out there to join, and even hosting the pool of which squad had the highest kill count. Many anarchists and opportunists soon, after seeing their success, pledged to be their ally and help spread rumors, set buildings on fire, block the road and terrorize civilians under the hashtag #trueavengers.  
Shortly after that, the heroes entered the battlefield but the villain assembly was the worst kind of cancer that kept multiplying. The mobile network went down several times and panic ruled New York. 

It was like his worst nightmare where his beloved city got reduced to the anarchical state of violence.

The smaller hospital in the closest radius of Midtown just got attacked by one of the armed fraction. Fortunately, they could evacuate people on time. Most of their patients were urgently transferred to Peter’s hospital. This and the increasing wave of injured civilians coming to the hospital, every department of the hospital from the administrative clerk to the triage to the ER team had been working to deliver medical care for two hours now. Peter was worried sick for his aunt and the girls. He hated that he couldn’t have time to give them a call. No one had the luxury of taking a break to give a call to their own families. In his profession, time was their primary enemy. They couldn’t waste any minute as it could mean life-or-death to their patients.

All Peter could do right now was doing his job and trusted that the people he loved would keep themselves safe from harm.

 

Fatigue and fright had weakened the hospital staffs’ spirit and the last straw that broke it was the message confirming them that the villain squad was on their way to Midtown Hospital.

Peter along with his colleagues received this bad news when he was in one of their units, they were giving care to their other tired fellows. Most of them in the room were from the primary. These nurses were ‘the jack-of-all-trades’ who managed most of preliminary care and interventions. Every patient had to pass through their hands first. Undoubtedly, they were among those who worked the hardest in the hospital and the news crushed the last ounce their strength.

“Where are the heroes – the Avengers? They should come to save us!” They demanded with frustration, clearly upset and betrayed. 

One of the young nurses started to sob. Then, others followed.

“Why they have to do this—this horrible thing to us!”

“Because they don’t understand.” Peter found himself offering them the answer. His hands were still firm when he practiced saline injection to one of the sobbing nurses. He observed them. Most of them were young, perhaps just graduated from the school. This might be their first time of villain attack. 

Everyone suddenly stopped and looked at him.

The truth was Peter understood their distress. When he was younger, he too could feel his blood boiled with fury. And admittedly, many times, he doubted his decision and almost went back to the idea of using his power again so he could avenge those people who committed the unforgivable crimes and protect his beloved one. Gradually, He began to understand that his wrath didn’t stem from hatred towards villains. It was from the lack of faith. He was just afraid that the people who belittled lives would win and what he and others had fought for would become meaningless. But Peter was an adult now and he understood himself better. He regarded his nurses and offered them his confident smile before sharing his belief to them.

“These people have lived a miserable life that they don’t understand that kindness and the will to help other people are the true strength of humans. But we do. We have to continue what we always do. In the end, the power that protects will triumph. And they will fall like they always do.”

Peter always felt awkward giving people consolation. He didn’t have his way with word and evidently hadn’t been trained to speak with a degree of eloquence. However, he thought he did a right thing here, seeing his nurses started wiping tears with their hands. They would be ready for another round.

“Well said, Parker.” Jemma complimented him and it startled Peter. No one ever realized that their matron visited them.

“Did you just compliment me?” Peter asked, befuddled. He needed a confirmation because her compliment was rare. She snorted.

“I have a new job for you. Follow me.” She told him.

 

On their way to exit the hospital building, Peter was given the information about their most recent situation. The police led with Captain Stacy, Gwen’s father, just arrived here thirty minutes ago to consult with the Dean and the hospital board. According to their reliable source, the police authority believed that one or two fractions of the villain assembly would reach here within two hours or less. Everyone agreed that evacuation should be the last resort because Midtown had too many patients in their care. It was logistically challenged and risky. The police planned to construct a barricade outside the hospital entrance. Captain Stacy also asked for permission to use the hospital ground to temporarily shelter civilians around the area that soon to be caught in the confrontation and set a communication line to keep both of them update about the situation.

And these were to be Peter’s task. 

They were already outside and Peter could see Police officers moved a barricade to close the hospital gate. He saw Captain Stacy who was busy ordering his subordinates. Gwen’s father also recognized Peter and gave him a grim nod.

Jemma was looking at him, expecting his answer for her request. Peter analyzed the area, trying to figure out the solution.

“There was no room available in the hospital and the number of patients admitted still increase. We need to save rooms for those life-threatening cases.” Peter began with acknowledging their urgent problem. “But we could utilize the lawn and empty space behind and around the building.” 

His chief nurse nodded approvingly. Seeing this, Peter continued.

“We could set medical tents and ask patients of no immediate care to stay there and have the triage see their wounds. Another tent for civilians, separate the zone.”

“Good plan. Get the triage and primary nurses with you. Trainees as well. Send the critical ones to the building. You stay on the ground and take care of the management and the communication with the police.”

Peter closed his eyes and willed himself to not be overwhelmed with the responsibility. He couldn’t hesitate nor could he waste any minutes. Everyone’s lives were at stake. 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

The villain fraction arrived with a car full of more than ten armed combatants. Its enhanced leader clearly absent. As their car was within view, making a turn at the corner of the road, the police began to fire. Soon, they engaged in an intensive fight and the squad abnormally started to retreat which led the police to follow in an attempt to force them into a submission. But it was a decoy because as soon as the police moved, another fraction of terrorists leaped from their hiding and tried to round the police.

Amidst the firing, Captain Stacy collapsed on the pavement.

Peter took his medical kit and urgently ran into the battlefield. Many staffs screamed at him to stop but Peter kept moving. No way in hell that he was going to let Gwen’s father died.

To whoever above that decided to grant him the spider-sense, Peter would give them a proper thank later because had he not had it with him, Peter might not be able to come any close to Captain Stacy. He would be killed as soon as he stepped his feet out of the safe zone. The tingling feeling in his skull was the only thing that kept Peter alive. Peter dodged several bullets that were aiming at his way. Unfortunately, because Peter never seriously practiced this skill to its fullest capacity, one bullet finally succeeded in piercing itself on his thigh. Peter staggered as pain rushed through his nerve system but he willed himself to move forward to where Captain Stacy was lying. 

“Captain Stacy!”

“Peter... here is not safe.” Thankfully, Gwen’s father was still conscious although barely, looking overtired. He was bleeding profusely. Peter immediately pressed a clean gauze on his opening wound on the stomach. Peter forced himself to think. If he could get Captain Stacy back to the hospital, they still had a chance to save him.

“Hold on, Captain. I’ll get us out of here.” Peter promised. Then, his sense was going off like crazy. Peter looked up to the man who now stood before him.

“Oh, look at this. It was a little male nurse.” He cackled. He was its leader and clearly an enhanced one. His entire right arm was a mechanic chainsaw. The man’s left arm was comparatively normal, with the exception that he had sharp claws instead of fingers. His bloodlust eyes and cynical smile told Peter this man didn’t plan to spare their lives. Peter automatically shielded the captain’s body with his own. If he attacked them, he would go through Peter first.

“Where was your cute skirt, faggot?” Just a brief moment, Peter considered pleading him for Captain Stacy’s sake. The idea went out the window when the bastard insulted Peter’s profession.

“Your father borrowed me. He looked wonderful in them though.” Peter taunted back. Immediately, The man's face twisted in rage, clearly having a tantrum of a child. He slapped Peter with his claws, left red lines on his face which blood started seeping. 

“Say that again! And I’ll fucking kill you!” He screeched. 

Peter stared back, giving the chainsaw man his disdain look.

“You’re the cheapest and ugliest cosplayer of Edward Scissorhands I ever saw.” Peter spat at his face. He prepared for any opportunity where he could punch the man in a dick with his full strength. Only this way he could get Gwen's father and him out. However, as the man raised his chainsaw hand, he knew that he was going to get cut in half. Instinctively, Peter quickly shut his eyes, preparing to die in a very grotesque way.

There was a sound of something got chopped off, but his body was still intact. Peter opened his eyes.

His attacker was now writhing in pain on the street, howling and clutching his bloody shoulder, his chainsaw arm now across the street. Standing between Peter and the incapacitated leader was the man in red, a katana in his hand dripping with blood, and a Hello Kitty Backpack slung loosely over his shoulder. He was the person Peter had been waiting for an entire week.

“Wade!” Peter couldn’t help but smile, relief and happiness filling his body at the mere sight of his Merc. Wade came back.

The masked mercenary kneeled down in front of him and gently lifted Peter’s chin, white lens inspecting his bleeding cheek. Peter cupped his gloved hand.

“I’m alright.” He said.

“Sorry for being late. Took me forever. Couldn’t find any available phone booth.” Peter let out a soft laugh. Wade smiled and it could be seen through the mask.

There was the sound of gunfire and people shouting around them. Another fraction just came.

“Get back to the hospital, Peter – I’ll be with you shortly.” Wade whispered. Peter nodded before he effortlessly lifted Captain Stacy up, arm carrying him. Wade’s eyes widen in shock. Peter hid his smirk.

“Be careful, Wade.” He said one last time.

The Merc just gave him his thumb up.

 

When Peter was back safely to the hospital ground, Deadpool finally paid his attention back to the villain troop who clearly was uneasy of the mercenary’s unexpected appearance. They all had heard of his reputation.

The immoral mercenary casually stalked toward them, swinging his bloody katana. Unafraid and uninterested of guns that pointed at him.

“Hope I’m not late for our girly party!” He said saccharinely. “Let’s see why not we begin our fun time with -- you fucker who shot my boy step out so I’d personally return the favor.” Deadpool let out a deadly growl, any faked merriment in his tone evaporated, replaced with cold fury.

In panic, the squads began to shoot him and Deadpool easily evaded them all. It looked like he was dancing rather than avoiding bullets. That was truly the skill possessed by the first-class mercenary, but the terrorists couldn’t appreciate it a bit, overwhelmed with horror. To be frank, it was hard to enjoy that crazy move of the merc when you were clearly on his opposite side.

The backpack full of weapons dropped unceremoniously on the ground. Deadpool huffed in annoyance. “Fine. Since I’m feeling generous today –“

“I’ll fucking unalive all of you instead.” He snarled. And the armed terrorists, even the most experienced one couldn’t help themselves but took a step back in fear of the most dangerous man’s wrath.


	5. The Mercenary and the Nurse

Wade cursed. 

It was five fucking times already that he had to dodge bullets coming to his direction. All of them should be avoidable if the police whom he supposed to work with was capable of aiming a fucking pistol. Wade twisted his body midair, delivering a triple headshot to three unlucky minions, but as he gracefully landed on his feet, another bullet again from the police’s bunker just scraped his spandex-clothed butt cheeks and gave him an annoying sizzling burn. Wade swiftly turned his full body toward them so he could do a proper yelling.

“You, doughnut dumpsters! Did you ever learn how to fucking aim?!” Wade glared at them, hoping that his mask could fully convey it to those officials in blue uniform. He really tempted to fire few bullets at them to further express his displeasure of their horrible skill.

“Sorry!” Some officers curtly shouted back.

“Aim at the minions next time! I know my beautiful red suit is an easier target than those goons’ dull black ones but you have to resist the urge, buddies. Today, Wadey couldn’t afford to get injuries!”

Just a moment that Wade took his eyes off his real opponents to finish his rant on the officers, the braver, or you could say stupider, goon attacked Wade with a combat knife in which he triumphantly stabbed it deep into the mercenary’s arm, all thanks to the distraction provided by the police. The goon’s joy over his small achievement, however, had a very brief existence because Deadpool just simply pulled it out, looking clearly unimpressed and bored. The disgustingly gushing sound of flesh and tender got brutally ripped off his arm made the goon gasped in horror and nausea. But before he could decide whether to puke, Deadpool plugged the knife back at its suicidal owner’s throat, precisely cut his Carotid artery, and kicked the goon away to bleed to death somewhere else that was not on Wade’s suit. With an irritated grunt, he inspected the slit wound left by the knife, glancing at the now dead goon on the dirty street with his white eyes unreadable.

“Give a lady something expensive! I don’t accept anything less than a sword crafted with the highest class of artistry and craftsmanship. Yours is cheap, peasant.” Wade flipped him the bird. Then, another bullet, this time from the enemy’s side, pierced through his inner thigh very close to the family jewels. Wade clenched his teeth and promptly dropped down to the ground, rummaging his now dirty backpack, and emerged back with several grenades. You couldn’t blame a guy for going to the extreme, especially when said guy used to experience getting shot down to the mainstream before. His beloved genitals which he liked most on his body got threatened here. 

“Did I not make myself fucking clear? Stop shooting at me! I know it sounds ridiculous because we’re trying to kill each other and all but I cannot get injured – my love life is at stake, fuckers!”

The booming sound of the explosion soon echoed the area, debris flew everywhere and terrorists screamed. Amidst the smoke and fire, Wade didn’t even stop running his motor mouth, complaining about the wounds he recently acquired. Yup, never once in his life that he considered bombs were a bad idea. It was going to be hella difficult trying to explain it to his nurse.

 

Despite his maximum effort to not get injured, he ended up with gaping holes throughout his body and possibly broken ribs. A bomb was not really a good idea but at least, it finished the job. There were no more active terrorists now, most of them dead on the street which was painted red with blood and human’s body parts. Paramedics were all over the area checking on police officers and some incapacitated goons who managed to survive the carnage for their injuries. Wade was sitting on the pavement, secluded himself from the scene and breathing heavily. This was one thing that his mutation couldn’t help. His stamina was only slightly over that of human average and it took time for him to fully recover from the exhaustion, and his throat dried from dehydration. Wade also felt dizzy perhaps because he was still bleeding and not to begin with the fact that breathing through a mask helped so little in getting oxygen into his body.

Several groups of paramedics tried to persuade Wade to go to the hospital and have his injuries checked. It was amusing to see that they still approached him with caution and wariness. It was understandable given his tarnished reputation, he didn’t blame them a bit for not seeing him in a different light. Only one person so far who was truly glad to see someone like Deadpool. 

When another pair of paramedics approached, Wade inspected his bleeding wounds; they were still healing albeit slowly which meant he couldn’t face Peter yet. So, Wade gleefully declined their offer. “Sorry boys, I’ll stay here and get some fresh breeze.” There was no breeze and his surrounding smelled like a slaughter house. The paramedics shared with each other a concerned look. “The charge nurse wouldn’t be pleased to hear that,” They muttered among themselves but loud enough for Wade to overhear.

“Who?” Wade inquired.

“Me.” Peter chilly answered on the behalf of his team and Wade’s shoulder visibly sagged. Bad sign. With the exception of a thigh bandage and a patched cheek, the nurse looked well, just paler than usual. However, more importantly, he looked pissed. Quickly, Peter sent off his technicians to another area where few injured goons were waiting to be transferred to the hospital. Now, it was just the two of them left. 

When Peter arrived back at the hospital and ensured that Captain Stacy was safe, his colleagues almost tied him onto the bed so he could rest. It took lots of begging so his fellows would let him work again but in exchange, Peter would not allow stepping a foot outside the gate. And here Peter was, promise broken because the mercenary denied to be taken care of and he had to come get the stubborn man himself. Peter crossed his arm, brows lifted; the body language in which he silently demanded Wade’s answer for why he refused to come to the hospital.

“I plan to visit when these—“Wade gestured the wounds all over his body, “are healed.” He finished in a small voice.

“The process could be faster if you let us apply disinfectant on them,” Peter stated matter-of-factly. 

“I know! But I don’t want you to know that I failed to keep up to my promise,” Wade sulked. The mercenary was staring at the hole in his arm accusingly. “Won’t the balcony agreement be void? You asked me to be careful but I couldn’t fulfill my part.”

Peter blinked slowly. 

Well, Peter would admit that it took him a full minute to comprehend Wade’s confusing explanation for his weirder than usual behavior. He was drugged with so many medicines they gave to ease off his pain when they patched him up in the medical tent. However, when he finally got the message, Peter couldn’t help but snort, and his amusing smile gradually adorned his tired face. 

“You have various kind of bullets and debris embedded in your body and all you could think is that I won’t date you?” Wade pouted and huffed indignantly “Of course! The date is more important!”

“Wade, you’re unbelievable,” Peter informed him, shaking his head affectionately at the impossible man in front of him. And abruptly, Wade got swooped within Peter’s arm as the nurse proceeded to carry the mercenary, princess-style, toward the hospital. Wade squealed delightfully.

“My charming prince!”

“No, I’m an exhausted nurse.”

“Huh, a skinny nurse who could easily carry a 6’2” man whose weight around 210 lbs. like nothing? How did you manage to keep a secret on your true strength this far when you keep showing off like this?” Wade mildly commented, his eyes perceptive. Peter plastered his face with indifference, trying so hard to not let his smile show.

“What’re you talking about? It’s adrenaline. Besides, no one care even if I grew another pair of an arm as long as I could do my shifts.”

“I do care very much. Why not you show me your ‘ability’ perhaps later in a very private setting, for example, bedroom?” Wade whispered into Peter’s ears with his gravelly voice. It sent an immediate shiver through Peter’s body. Wade might not believe this but his cancerous scarred voice box did give the man the most unique and sensational voice which was so hoarse and deep. It secretly was Peter’s favorite sound in the world, second only to the merc’s own heartbeat. Oh god, Peter fell for the man so bad but he never planned to confess this secret to Wade very soon. Instead, he said,

“Wade. I’m going to drop you.”

 

Wade had been sitting in one of the medical tents for a while now, his wounds taken care of. Peter brought him water and even some candies of his own in which he ordered Wade to eat because Peter was too tired to feel hungry and Wade needed the energy to regain his strength. The nurse came to check on him constantly to make sure Wade was doing okay and didn’t do something reckless like attempting to escape. However, Peter couldn’t stay with him very long as he had to oversee the after-crisis works on the ground floor. The nurse was clearly busy and Wade had no idea why he insisted on checking on him, the mercenary shook his head, again perplexed by Peter's action.

“Why go through this difficulty for just someone like me?” He mumbled to himself. However, coincidently Peter just return to the tent for a quick visit in time to hear his mercenary’s insecurity. The nurse was immediately at his side and sat down next to him. Wade carefully avoided Peter’s eyes. But Peter wouldn’t be going to make a mistake again, so he firmly clasped Wade’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Because you’re important to me,” Peter whispered back the answer which had Wade cackled humorlessly. 

“People would beg to differ. I’m a villain. As soon as everything settles the police would try to drag me to jail.”

“They can try,” Peter growled. Wade suddenly looked up at him in surprise, too stunned by the unlikely aggression the younger man exhibited.

“However, I don’t think that would be the scenario. You’re now a hero. You saved everyone here. You saved me. Thank you.” Peter smiled at him. It was beautiful. Wade was a grown man and he shouldn’t blush at the compliment sincerely given to him by the man he adored. But he did anyway.

Peter closed his eyes with a sigh, leaned his head on Wade’s shoulder. “Stay, Wade.” The hand gave him a firm squeeze in return and before he knew, Peter fell asleep from his exhaustion.

 

As far as he could remember, no one really cares for his well-being. No one ever thinks that Wade Wilson was worth saving.

Many years ago, he was born in Saskatchewan, Regina, to a family bonded together with alcohol and poverty. The mother, whose face he never remembered perished since he was young, her life too beaten up by the hand of her own husband and alcoholism. The old man who was Wade’s father cared nothing about another living being in the house, even said life was his own son. The reason he kept Wade was simple. As an asset, Wade was a useful excuse for the man to leech onto the social welfare for financial support. There was also another reason too. Sometimes, he would send Wade off during the cold winter night to get him some beer from the local store. It was freezing and dark out there but inside the store was surprisingly warm and bright with light and the aisle of candies and chocolate. The younger Wade always stared at them longingly, his hand clutched tightly on dirty banknotes. 

One day, he made up his mind.

The boy spent all the money purchasing chocolate. Predictably, his dad beat the crap out of him before storming out to get his booze which was fortunate for Wade because the alcoholic bastard completely forgot about the existence of Wade and a bag of candies that scattered on the floor. Wade hurriedly crawled back to his tiny room so he could eat his hard-won prize, and paid none of his attention to the green and purple bruises that started to form on his body. Back then, violence was the only thing that his younger-self associated with human touch. It was the foundation of his reality, his world.

It didn’t change much as time passed by. In a few years later, Wade would run away and establish his life on the street where he learned how to fight and survive. His years of cultivating fighting skills paid back very well when they got him the position in the US army and Canadian special ops. Then, the dishonorable discharge and the beginning of mercenary career followed shortly. During those years, Wade had it all, money, booze, and women but the most consisting thing he never failed to accumulate was the pain: scars and wounds that no one cared. Wade tended to them only when it was necessary. However, the whole story of becoming the immortal Deadpool made him entirely discard the idea of caring for injuries. Why bother when he couldn’t die?

Then, he met him.

Peter, a man whose existence had Wade question his reality for the first time in his life, and made him wonder how someone this pure and beautiful could exist in the same world of the like of Wade. Peter was the name of the nurse who invited the most dangerous mercenary into his house and took care of his deformed body; kindness never dimmed from his big brown eyes when he looked at Wade’s cancerous scars and the delicate hands that touched him always with gentle and care. 

At first, it confused him, leading him to visit the mysterious nurse, again and again, to solve the mystery why the man cared for a life that nobody gave a damn. Gradually, it stemmed into addiction as Wade began to crave Peter’s attention. He yearned the nurse’s touch and he loved his own reflection in Peter’s worrying eyes. They made him felt like he was lovable for once in his life. Before Wade ever realized, he was deeply in love with the person whom he clearly didn’t deserve.

Nevertheless, Peter scared Wade more than any puny torture at the Weapon X facility. Peter shed tears for his pain, simply as that it broke Wade. He was angry at himself for putting Peter in that situation but moreover, he was afraid to change. There were too many uncertainties that he didn’t know. How could he make sense of his crumbling reality now? What if he had nothing left to feel? What if this was just another cruel illusion that never lasts long? Hence, it should be better this way if Wade made himself scarce for Peter’s sake.

But it was so hard staying away from the best thing in his life. Even more, the problem wasn’t fixed and both of their hearts ached because of the separation.  
For a week that Wade has silently watched over Peter and whenever the nurse fell asleep on the balcony, Wade would climb up to see the sleeping nurse. Unlike many rumors, he could be quiet if he wanted but Wade just normally preferred the grand opening with guns and bombs. He would quietly observe the nurse’s face. Up close, Peter looked ever younger with his baby face and long eyelashes, his brows furrowed even in his slumber and Wade knew it was his fault. Carefully, he scooped the younger man in his arms and carried him to his bedroom so Peter could at least sleep better in a warm and comfortable bed than a cold hard floor. Wade would linger around, and moved strands of hair out of his face.

“Why are you so stubborn, Peter? You don’t know me. Heck, you never ever see my hideous face.” Every night when he put Peter in his bed, Wade would repeat his unsolvable bafflement. Still, he always returned to Peter’s side.

 

When Peter woke up again, he was alone in the tent. Wade disappeared. However, this time Peter knew everything was going to be okay.

 

A few day later, Peter was gluing himself on his couch, watching the TV in his apartment, the news about the New York incident still playing on every channels and analyst giving their perspectives on the attack. He was given days off due to his injuries and Peter was already bored. He did what any single adult given a day off would do: open the TV, play with his phone and eat high sugary snacks instead of getting himself real and nutritional food because he was too lazy to move his body. A quick thought, Peter should do laundry too but no he would do that later. Peter’s body automatically emitted a groan when someone rang his doorbell. 

Slowly, he waddled to open the door.

There was a familiar stranger standing outside. Of course, Peter never ‘really’ saw him before. He wore a worn black jean and a pair of military boots. His red hoodie was pull up to cover his face even though he already had a cap. They created a shadow on his face, but it wasn’t sufficient enough in hiding his fascinating scars or his vibrant blue eyes. Peter couldn’t believe that Wade hid this beautiful pair of eyes from him all the time. He should be mad but later.

The man lifted his takeout bag with his familiar grin, his eyes dancing with mischief, “I bought us some Mexican.”

“Welcome back, Wade Wilson,” Peter said with his equally brightest smile.

 

At night, they cuddled on the couch watching a program which currently paid a tribute to the superheroes who rescued New York. Wade was giving his comment and critiques here and there. Meanwhile, Peter comfortably adjusted his head under Wade’s chin and his back on Wade’s warm chest. He didn’t comment anything, just happily munching on his Kit Kat Chunky and contented in Wade’s rumbling.

“These heroes are there for them just for a brief moment but takes all the glory from the people who has worked tirelessly day and night, before, throughout and after every crisis to ensure the wellbeing of everyone. You know what—you and the nurses, every professional even those police with a horrible aim are the true heroes,” Wade said fervently before he murmured into Peter’s ears, “You’re my hero.” And Peter was so touched with Wade’s sincerity, he almost kissed him. But he didn’t because his mouth was still full with Kit Kat, so Peter hummed, closing his eyes.

Then, Wade changed the topic.

“How about Nurse Parker?” he asked out of the blue and Peter forced his heavy eyelids to open. 

“What?”

“Your super name, Petey. Have you even listened?”

“No. Why do I need a super name?”

“Because you’re one of the heroes. Heroes have super names.” Wade explained. “How Florence Nightingale sounds to you?”

“That a ‘female’ name of the late founder of modern nursing, Wade.”

“Still a good name for a super alias. How about—“ 

Peter did the most reasonable thing in this situation to stop Wade ruining their mood. He put his half-eating Kit Kat Chunky into Wade’s jabbering mouth and sealed it with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! This fic is finally completed! Thank all of your for your kind support in every form of comments, kudos, and bookmarks. I’m really grateful that you like my fic even though it may not be perfect and full of grammatical errors and weird sentences. As a non-native, I tried to minimize those errors but sometimes I didn’t even realize it was there. If anyone could help me correct it, I’d be very pleased too. Anyways, I still love nurse!Peter and might do some one-shot later if you still want to read.  
> Also, I still hope that more writers would join us and help establish nurse!Peter au.


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